


But I Have to Hope

by Lumelle



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M, Pietro Maximoff Lives, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Pre-Slash, Recovery, X Mansion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-10
Updated: 2016-12-10
Packaged: 2018-09-07 17:50:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8810248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lumelle/pseuds/Lumelle
Summary: Pietro is frustrated at his inability to help his sister. Kurt tries to give him patience.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I was asked for some Kurt/Pietro. This is the result.

The sound from the small recorder wasn't very loud. He'd adjusted the sound to be just enough for him to hear, not wanting to bother anyone, and yet it seemed terribly loud in the dark silence of the large room.

"I don't know if you'll even hear this, but I have to hope that it reaches you somehow." Wanda sounded so tired, so vulnerable, and he ached to be near her, as he should have been. His place was with her, as it had always been, yet here he was, left behind. "There isn't much I can tell you, except that I'm all right. I can't come back, not now, but I have friends who'll look after me."

"Except they didn't take good care of you, now did they?" he murmured, even though she had no way of hearing him. "First they locked you up and then they dragged you into even more trouble. Some friends they are."

"Please, don't worry about me," Wanda continued, heedless of his words. "I'll return to you as soon as I can. For now, though, I just need you to promise me that you'll stay safe. I don't want you to rush after me before you have recovered."

"Oh, Wanda." He held the small device to his forehead, as though hoping it would lend him some of the closeness he couldn't get from her, not now. "As though I could ever make such a promise to you."

"Stay out of trouble, Pietro," Wanda said, because she had always been something of a hypocrite about such things. "I'll come back to you, I promise."

There was the faint sound of someone speaking in the background, too low for Pietro to hear, and even that cut off mid-sentence as the recording ended.

For a moment he stared up at the ceiling, the scratches and dents he knew to mark the aged surface concealed by the shadows of the late hour. The lights were off, with only the slightest gleam from the moon peeking in between the curtains. All around him the house was silent, waiting for dawn to arrive, people behind closed doors all breathing calmly in their slumber while he lay awake. That was fine, he was fine with being the only one awake. He'd been sleeping enough as it was.

He didn't want to see what awaited him in dreams, anyway.

Pietro's finger lingered on the play button, tempted to press, not sure he should. He'd listened to it enough times anyway, could recall every word of it with crystal clarity, every slight hitch of Wanda's breath and the way she hesitated over certain parts. He suspected most people wouldn't have noticed any of it, but he knew her as well as he did himself, better than that sometimes. He could see her face, the way her lashes fluttered as she swallowed before telling him to stay away, the smile she struggled to summon to her face as she promised to return.

He knew all too well just how much of it was nothing but lies.

In a burst of anger he shot up to his feet, then almost immediately regretted it as a wave of pain shot through his back. He was getting better, far too slowly, but there was too much to heal. He had been dead, they reminded him all too often, had been thought beyond any hope of recovery. The only reason they had even kept trying had been Wanda, Wanda and her determination that some part of him still remained.

She had been right, of course, she always was right about him, and now he couldn't even show her just how right she was.

Once he was on his feet moving was easier, his restless steps around the room growing faster by the moment, all the energy he couldn't truly let out no matter how he tried, wasn't allowed to even try. He needed to give his body time, they kept saying, he couldn't keep pushing his limits or they would soon start pushing back. It was a change, he supposed, from the people who had been all too eager to see how far beyond his limits he could be forced to go, but it didn't make it any less frustrating.

Changing his course abruptly, he headed toward the doorway, only barely managing to keep himself from running as he so desperately wanted to. His thumb hovered over the play button, hesitating, before he growled in frustration and threw the recorder away from himself into the darkness of the hallway.

His eyes tracked it through the shadows, the small indicator light drawing an arc against the darkened walls, before suddenly it was swallowed up by something even darker.

"Careful," a soft voice spoke up from the darkness. "I don't think you want to break that."

"Maybe I'm sick of people telling me what I want to do." He failed to summon up any actual vehemence in his voice, though. After all, the statement wasn't exactly untrue. Drawing a deep breath, he took a couple of quick strides forward, reaching out his hand. The recorder was dropped onto his palm without comment. "…Thank you."

"No need to thank me, Mein Freund." The golden eyes blinked at him slowly, the rest of the face around them almost entirely blending into the darkness. "I would hate for you to be sad due to an angry mistake."

"I'm not the one making the mistakes, though." Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair, the other clutching the recorder to himself all the tighter for all that he had been all too eager to toss it away just moments earlier. "You know what's happening out there."

"I do, yes." There was nary a sound, only the softest of whispers of movement, as Kurt spun around from where he was hanging from the ceiling and landed down on the floor like a cat. "And I know how badly you want to go and be a part of it."

"How could you?" Pietro wasn't entirely able to mask the bitterness in his voice. "You can't know how I'm feeling right now."

"Perhaps not exactly, no. But I have a sister, too. If she was in danger somewhere, it would be very hard for anyone to stop me from going to her." A hand closed around his, the one cradling the recorder. Kurt's hand was silky soft, his fur a warm contrast to the cool night air. "But your sister is not in danger now. She is running, yes, but not in danger. The Captain will look after her until you can go to her again."

"Because he's done such a great job of looking after her so far."

"She has made her own choices. Perhaps you ought to respect them." The words were harsh, perhaps, but the golden eyes were gentle as they looked at him. From anyone else he might have scoffed at such sympathy, but with Kurt, Pietro could only avert his eyes, unable to face the absolute sincerity in his gaze. "She promised to return to you, ja? Then trust her, as she would want you to."

"I belong with her." He was only whispering, now, but he knew Kurt could hear him loud and clear in the silence of the night. "Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful you all have taken me in and let me recover here, safe from all the messes the Avengers get themselves into, but… I belong with my sister."

"I know that. We all know that, and we respect that. But until you have recovered, you cannot help her. If you went to her now, if you could even make the trip, if you could find her, you would only be an obstacle, something she needs to protect." Kurt's hand tightened around his momentarily before letting go. "She has lost you once, Pietro. Don't make her lose you again."

"Those are tough words for a friend." And yet he couldn't deny the truth in them.

"They are the words you seem to need, though." Kurt smiled, now, sharp teeth flashing in the hint of moonlight before disappearing again. "The day you are fully recovered, I will go with you myself, I promise. We will find your sister, and everyone else."

"Careful what you promise." He almost managed a smirk, certainly not a smile, but that seemed to be enough for Kurt, who grinned broadly in response. "When I do get to go after her, I won't be coming back for a while."

"So I would have to travel the world with you? Perhaps take part in exciting heroics? I have heard worse threats, I have to say." Kurt tilted his head, then, a gesture that always made a particular curl fall down on his forehead. Pietro's fingers itched to push it aside. "You should be asleep, you know. You will recover faster if you let yourself rest."

"It's not exactly easy to sleep when I keep having all these… dreams." He sighed. "Hearing Wanda's voice keeps them at bay, somewhat, but it also frustrates me because I can't be with her."

"I know." Kurt's hand was covering his once again, the touch soft and gentle. "Perhaps, then, you would care to keep me company? There is a movie I would like to watch, and the large TV tends to always be reserved during the day."

"Let me guess." Pietro snorted. "Another one of your unrealistic swordfight films?"

"The term is swashbuckling, my friend. And I do not believe either of us is in a position to criticise something for not being quite realistic, even less so as we currently live in this mansion." Kurt smiled again, his fingertips lingering at the back of Pietro's hand for a moment, the short fur velvety soft against his skin. "I will go get the film, ja?"

Before Pietro could say anything — and he was usually rather fast in his protests, thank you — Kurt had vanished in a plume of smoke. Taking a quick step back, Pietro considered his options, then shrugged and strode over to the TV to turn it on. When Kurt had an idea stuck in his head, he found it sometimes quite useless to try to resist.

He had both the TV and the DVD player on and the best spot on the couch already claimed by the time Kurt returned, carrying not only a DVD case but also a large bag of sweets of some kind. Well, Pietro hoped he realised that having it at hand meant he had better be willing to share. Pietro's metabolism burned through a lot of energy, after all, particularly as he had so much recovery to do.

Kurt set the volume low so as not to stir the other inhabitants of the manor, but again it was quite enough in the silence of the late hour. Pietro could not quite follow the plot, was half convinced there wasn't one besides a rather tenuous excuse for the heroes and villains all to be brandishing swords in a very flashy manner, but Kurt seemed to enjoy it well enough and was indeed willing to share his sweets. He was quite warm, too, as Pietro inevitably started listing towards his friend, the lack of sleep finally catching up to him.

As Pietro started to doze off, he felt something nudging at his hand, the one he still kept curled close to his chest. At first he wondered what it could be — he knew one of Kurt's hands was visiting the bag of sweets, and he could feel the other one resting on his shoulder, nice and warm — until he realised the strange shape covered in velvety fur could only be the tip of Kurt's tail. It wedged itself between his fingers, gentle but insistent, and Pietro wasn't sure what Kurt was trying to do until he heard the soft click and then a familiar voice.

"I don't know if you'll even hear this, but I have to hope that it reaches you somehow…"

He didn't hear the rest, slipping off to sleep as he did, but then, he already knew the words, as familiar as the soft rhythm of Kurt's heart echoing the rapid beats of his own.


End file.
